ALMOST EVERYTHING by Williams Mary J

Author:Williams, Mary J.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brook Publications
Published: 2019-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

♫~♫~♫

THE HOUSE WAS empty. Morgan paused by the mudroom door and listened, just in case. Marcy and Sven were in town picking up supplies. If they followed their usual pattern, she would talk her reluctant husband into lunch at the Le Tableau, the French bistro she loved, and he considered pretentious.

Marcy almost always got her way. A fact Morgan used to his advantage.

Close to mid-day, the clock read a quarter to eleven. Yet the overcast sky, heavy with soon to be falling snow, gave the impression of late afternoon—closer to dusk than dawn. Morgan didn’t bother to turn on a light. After all the time he’d spent within the walls, he knew the farmhouse like the back of his hand.

As Morgan passed the dining room, he didn’t pause to think of all the meals he’d shared with the Reinholds on the mahogany table rescued from the junk heap by Marcy and restored with loving care to its former gleaming glory—a project the couple did together to pass the hours one particularly frigid winter.

Warmth and laughter practically sang from every inch of the house his surrogate parents had turned into a home. With open arms and open hearts, they welcomed in a skinny kid who possessed more enthusiasm than skill or brawn. Marcy and Sven gave him a place to belong. Safe, secure, loved.

Morgan didn’t think twice when he slipped into Marcy’s arts and crafts room. Nor did he feel a twinge of guilt as he removed a roll of wrapping paper from the cedar storage bin he built—under Sven’s watchful tutelage—three summers ago.

Normally, he would have asked permission before he used Marcy’s scissors to cut a piece of bright blue paper and a matching length of ribbon. She taught him to respect what belonged to others. He planned to confess—in a day or two—and was confident she would forgive his transgression.

Flipping the switch on the desk lamp, Morgan took a small, rectangular box from the pocket of his coat. In his eighteen years, he could count on one hand the number of gifts he’d purchased. His father didn’t celebrate anything. And he sure as hell wouldn’t waste his hard-earned money on something as stupid as a present.

Marcy and Sven believed in making the gifts they exchanged. Something fashioned by the hands of someone you loved was so much better than anything churned out in a soulless factory.

Morgan broke their, no store-bought presents, rule one time. Four years ago, on the twelfth of May, Marcy and Sven’s fifteenth wedding anniversary.

Every time Marcy passed by the store window in town that displayed local artists’ work, she admired a small, hand-blown glass vase sprinkled liberally with the colors of a Northern Michigan sunset. Though she insisted there was no point in wasting money on something she had little use for, Morgan could see the longing in her eyes.

The gift made a dent in his savings but to see the joy on Marcy’s face was worth every penny. The pride in Sven’s eyes? Priceless.

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